


After All This Time

by LiraelClayr007



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: (the metacrisis after a long happy life), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Immortal Rose Tyler, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, Music, The Doctor/Rose Tyler Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2020-09-18 21:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20319439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiraelClayr007/pseuds/LiraelClayr007
Summary: Pulling off his sunglasses he settles onto the only empty stool, next to a small blond woman wearing a long leather duster. It’s far too big for her; the sleeves are rolled several times to allow her hands access to the drink she’s staring into.He fiddles with the sunglasses, unsure where to begin. Finally he says lightly, “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”Her head whips around, hair flying in all directions. Her look is one of pure shock--eyes wide, mouth hanging open. Finally she whispers, “Doctor?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WordMusician](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordMusician/gifts).

> WordMusician--I FORGOT YOUR BIRTHDAY.
> 
> I could give many excuses, but mostly it's that I simply forgot. The end of July came and my brain turned to mush and I ignored everything my calendar told me to do.
> 
> Oops.
> 
> To make it even better (can you read my sarcasm??) this was supposed to be light and fluffy and it turned into something angsty with a side of emotional hurt/comfort and I think maybe my fluff button is broken. Oh, and did I mention it's not even done yet?? Because it got out of control and then I realized it really had to be two parts and there was a clear place to split it, and I promise the ending will be fluffier. Seriously. The promised birthday fluff. Just a _tiny_ bit late. (or, you know. A way lot late. *sigh*)
> 
> Anyway....
> 
> Happy birthday, friend!!
> 
> Twelve, Rose, and wee bit of guitar. 💙

The Doctor closes his eyes behind his dark glasses, enjoying the feel of guitar strings under his fingers and the sounds of rising and falling notes in his ears. He’d spent two days that had felt like a month chasing down an alien intent on wrecking havoc in London, so when the trouble was taken care of he’d needed to relax. He knows the guy who owns this pub, provides a little live music from time to time, because playing in the TARDIS isn’t the same as playing for _people_; even a small crowd gives something in return that can’t be found in an empty room. It’s not applause, it’s not even attention. It’s just _energy,_ some inexplicable necessity that performers need along with food and water and air.

But there _is_ a smattering of applause; his set is finished and he waves to the crowd. Someone actually shouts “Encore!” but he waves this off, a “maybe later” sort of wave.

Unhooking the strap of his guitar he settles it into the stand on the small stage then steps down to pick his way through the maze of tables to the bar itself. Pulling off his sunglasses he settles onto the only empty stool, next to a small blond woman wearing a long leather duster. It’s far too big for her; the sleeves are rolled several times to allow her hands access to the drink she’s staring into.

He fiddles with the sunglasses, unsure where to begin. Finally he says lightly, “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

Her head whips around, hair flying in all directions. Her look is one of pure shock--eyes wide, mouth hanging open. Finally she whispers, “Doctor?”

She looks like she’s about to throw her arms around him, then she stops, a look somewhere near anger darkening her features. “Really, Doctor? All this time separatin’ us, and that’s all you’ve got? A cheesy little line like that? I’ve half a mind to--”

His palm gently cupping her cheek, thumb ghosting across her skin, stops her words. He looks at Rose--truly looks at her--and his breath catches in his throat. It’s not just the tears threatening to trace down her cheeks at any moment. It’s the depth he sees in her eyes. It’s something near to what he sees on rare occasions he looks into a mirror. _All this time,_ she’d said. Suddenly the significance of the coat she’s wearing hits home. It’s not the blue leather jacket she’d worn when hopping through dimensions, looking for his former self. It’s the coat he himself had worn back then.

_Or a fairly good copy,_ he tells himself. Probably the metacrisis found it in Pete’s World.

And then everything crashes down on him all at once.

He clutches at the bar, then at his hair, thankful that he’s sitting on a stool and not standing up, for surely he’d have fallen otherwise. Distantly he hears Rose saying, “Easy, Doctor. Easy,” reaching out to steady him. He manages to slip his sunglasses on, looks at Rose through them, and there it is, clear as day. 

“Rose, you…” he starts, but for maybe the first time in his many lives his mind goes completely blank. He has no idea what to say to her.

“We didn’t notice at first,” Rose begins. She’s talking to him, but she’s somewhere else too, staring off into another universe. “We were happy, the human Doctor an’ me. John, he was called. John Noble. He wanted to be his own self, and he--well, he thought Donna would like that.”

“She would have done,” the Doctor says, a faint smile on his lips.

“It was a bit rocky, in the beginning. We had to learn how to live with each other again, and he had to learn how to be human, and we didn’t have other planets or times to escape to. We had to find adventure in the little things. But we always knew we fit together, and it was worth getting past the tough bits.” She smiles, remembering.

“And then, after a little more than three years, we had our own TARDIS. She looked almost just like yours, on the outside at least. Apparently she liked the police box look too.”

“It’s a good look,” interjects the Doctor, and Rose laughs.

“So we had human lives to live, but we could live them everywhere and everywhen. And even though we were growin’ older, you know how the TARDIS is. Filters out viruses and bacteria, heals broken bones, that sort of thing. Healthy as horses, we two. We’d galavant for a time, then go home and visit Tony and Mum and Pete, then go out into the universe again. Only one time Mum looked at us and said, ‘What’s goin’ on, Rose! You an’ Tony look like you could be twins, and John over there’s got bits of silver in his hair!’ I think my heart nearly stopped. I’d honestly never noticed. I laughed it off to Mum but later John and I started talkin’ about it. About what lookin’ into the heart of the TARDIS can do to a person. About how maybe she’d fundamentally changed me even though you took the brunt of it into yourself…”

“Oh Rose,” he whispers. He can’t help it. But he doesn’t think she even notices.

“And then,” she says, taking a deep breath, “I died.”

He goes completely still. Obviously she survived this death, but the thought of anything happening to his Rose makes his blood run cold.

“It was such a stupid thing. We were just playin’! We were runnin’ on a beach, chasin’ each other, just plain bein’ silly. I slipped in the sand, and there was a rock, and it hit me just so…” She points at the side of her head. There is no scar. “There was no time to get me back to the TARDIS, I died right there in the sand. But I didn’t really die, of course. I _regenerated._ John was cryin’, and I felt like my whole body was on fire, every cell screamin’ to just stop so I could rest. And then John carried me back to the TARDIS and I slept for two days and then…” She shrugs. “But I look just like I always did. It’s not fair, that crazy energy stuff could have at least made me a little taller.”

He laughs, but his laugh is tinged with pain, and a tiny bit of regret. His lovely Rose, what had he done to her?

As if reading his thoughts, she puts a hand over his and says, “It’s not your fault, Doctor. I don’t regret what I did. And I don’t regret becomin’...whatever it is I am now.”

He looks into her eyes, eyes filled with time and sadness. “Time Lady,” he says. “Or near as makes no nevermind.”

She nods, slow and even. “I thought as much. John never said the words, but I thought he probably knew, same as me. It seems so strange to hear it said out loud though, to really _know_.”

And then she grabs at the hand she’d been only gently touching. “He lived a long, happy life, Doctor. I didn’t leave him, I swear I didn’t. I couldn’t, I never--” The sobs overcome her body, and he pulls her into his arms, breathing in the sweetness he’s never forgotten. He’s been wanting this ever since he saw her walk into the bar; it had been a sweet torture to play the rest of the set knowing she was there, her back to him, staring into a glass of something golden and firey. But this--her tears wash hot against his skin, and his strong Rose feels like she could shatter apart at any moment.

His murmurs are almost incoherent, just comforting sounds really. But he means every word, even if she isn’t really hearing him. “Of course you couldn’t, love. I know. I know.”

And he does. He hates saying goodbye, hates watching short-lived humans die. Just a blink and they’re gone, really. But oh, what lives they live. And he loves every moment he has with them. Two hearts, too much love to give.

But it’s impossible to put into words, so he just holds her, allows her to cry.

It’s long minutes before she takes a few deep breaths and says, “Thank you. I…” For a breath he thinks she’s lost in her memories, but finally she finishes by saying again, “Thank you.”

_Anything for you, my Rose,_ the Doctor doesn’t say. “Of course,” he says instead, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“John lived over a hundred years after we landed on Bad Wolf Bay. Near a hundred and two! Must have been the Time Lord half, giving him an extended lifespan. Not as long as a Time Lord, mind, but so, so long for a human, since we figure he was somewhere in his mid-30s when he was...well, born, I guess. Anyway, it was about ten years before that we stumbled upon the crack in the universe. John wouldn’t even call it a crack, said it was a micro fissure. Only molecules wide, he said, but he and the TARDIS worked for years on a way to get me through. Made me promise to go after, after…” A fresh tear trails down her already wet cheek.

“After he died,” says the Doctor, saying the words she cannot.

She nods, biting her lower lip.

“I didn’t do it right away. I wasn’t afraid,” her eyes flash defensively as she says this, “I just had to say a proper goodbye first. I never did get to say a proper goodbye to you; the first time I fell through the void, and then you disappeared before you could say you love me--and yes, I know that’s what you were sayin’, you can’t deny it now!--and then you just left me on the beach with John. I loved him so much, Doctor, and our life together was an incredible adventure, but you shouldn’t have done that.”

“Of course I love you, my Rose. Then and always.” His voice breaks when he says _always_. He doesn’t apologize for leaving her. He cannot. More than his voice would break.

She nods, just once, as if to say, “As it should be.”

“I buried him near Mum and Pete, and then I toured the universe. Visited all our favorite places. I didn’t even have to tell the TARDIS where to take me, she always knew the right place at the right time. She may've been young, but she knew me quite well. Even made me tea an’ biscuits when I was feelin’ blue.”

The Doctor found himself feeling inexplicably jealous.

“But after a few months of that, it was time. The TARDIS and I, we followed John’s instructions to the letter. It was a bumpy ride, and I’m honestly not sure how we survi--Doctor!”

She squeaks out his name because he’s suddenly holding her so tight; the logical part of his brain knows she clearly made it from the other universe to this one with no lasting harm, that the metacrisis--_John_, he corrects himself--would hardly put her in a truly dangerous situation--_would he?_\--but thinking of her taking such a risk…

She’s stiff in his arms at first, clearly startled, but soon he feels her relax into his embrace. “I’m alright, Doctor. Truly. All here.” After a moment she threads her fingers into his hair and he decides that this is the best place in the universe and he’s never going to move again.

“Doctor,” Rose says, “quite a few people are lookin’ at us. Maybe we can go for a walk?” She smiles up at him through her lashes.

He starts. “I can’t! I’ve got to play again in…” He closes his eyes, thinking. His eyes snap open. “Three minutes! I didn’t even get a drink!” He gestures at the bartender. “Cliff! Could I get some water please?”

Rose is staring at him, eyes wide. Finally she says, “The guitar! That...that was _you_! I heard it from outside, and something about it called me in. But I couldn’t see the stage through the crowd, so I just sat down to listen…” She trails off, and they just smile at each other. He can feel how ridiculous his own smile looks, but it hardly matters. Rose is here, right in front of him. She’s real and she wants to go for a walk with him. And she came in to listen to him play his guitar, even when she didn’t know it was him.

It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes the universe gives him a gift.

“I know the owner, he lets me play sometimes. Always holds a table for me down front, in case I have any guests, which I never do.” The Doctor winks at Rose, then eases her forward with a hand on the small of her back. “Until tonight.”

She gives a soft giggle. “I’ll be your groupie!”

He takes a needed gulp of his water; even a Time Lord’s brain can go in too many directions at once, and Rose laughing can derail his thoughts any time.

Even after all these years.

She sits at the small table and he steps up onto the stage, trying to calm his jittery mind into performance mode for the next half hour or so. As he settles onto the waiting stool with his guitar resting on his thigh he looks at her again, looks at her eyes, and everything falls into place. The almost too long pauses, the heaviness in her gaze, the way she whispered his name when she first saw him. It’s right there, all of it.

“After my set we’ll go for that walk,” he says, his voice pitched low so only Rose can hear. “And you can tell me what you’ve been holding back.”


	2. Chapter 2

“It took a bit of time to get used to the other London. At first it seemed like things were mostly the same, except for the airships, of course. But then I’d see a photo of Westminster Abbey, and all the glass would be blue. Or Shakespeare’s theatre wasn’t named the Globe, it was called the Rose. Which I quite liked, of course, but how weird is that?”

The Doctor and Rose walk under the glowing streetlamps, together but with a deliberate space between them. The Doctor can feel the emptiness in his hand where hers should be, and it sends a near constant ping of feedback to his hearts. _Wrong_, it buzzes. _Wrong_.

But he’s determined to let her have her way, at least to start, so he thrusts his hands into his pockets and lets her chatter wash over him. She’s filling the space between them with her words--not to mention her arms, the gestures just shy of frantic--as she fills up more and more time.

And isn’t time what this is all about?

“...notice the stars when we were there together? The constellations are different! There’s one called Zeus, it looks a bit like a bolt of lightning, and one called the Cat, although no matter how much I squint it just looks like squiggles to me. I never learned ‘em when I--well, it hurt to much too look at the stars back then, you know? And then they were going out anyway, so it didn’t matter. But after you--well, John and I learned together, something new for both of us. And we visited so many of the planets orbiting those stars…” She gazes upward, starlight from a billion miles away caressing her tear stained cheeks. She hugs her arms across her chest--not protection from cold, just a bit of comfort.

“Still, there was snow every Christmas, and I learned how to ski. Although that wasn’t on Earth, that was on Pixus 4. Where the snow is--”

“Pink” interrupts the Doctor. They both laugh and the tension lifts, if only a little.

“We even revisited some of the places you and I went together. We went to New New York and had a picnic in the apple grass, and we went to…”

He can hear the shift in her voice, so he finishes for her. “Woman Wept,” he says.

“Yeah.”

She takes his hand and pulls him to a bench under a tree. “I just want to be able to look at you properly,” she says. He doesn’t argue.

“It’s very confusing, loving the same man twice. It’s not like twins, who are genetically identical but fundamentally two very different people. You two, up to a point, were exactly the same. So when you left us on that beach--yes, I loved him, honestly I knew right away that I loved him, but I still had to mourn you. I knew you weren’t dead, but you were _lost_, and there was a hole in my heart John could never fill.” Something inside him leaps at this, knowing she’d held a place for him. He’d always held onto her, even knowing he’d never see her or touch her again. At this thought he brushes an errant hair back from her forehead and tucks it over her ear, just because he can. Because she’s _here_ and he _can_ touch her again.

“I had to mourn him too, Doctor.” Her voice is pleading. “He was you but _not_ you; he was himself and I loved him and then I lost him, just like I lost you.”

“How long have you been back in this universe?” he asks. His voice is gentle; he doesn’t need to forgive her because there’s nothing to forgive.

She won’t meet his eyes. “About a hundred and ten years. Give or take. My TARDIS will know exactly.”

He holds himself in perfect stillness, doesn’t let any outward reaction show.

Inside, he lets himself cry out. All that time he could have been with her. He understands, but he can’t help but ache.

Rose takes his hands in hers. “At first my excuse was that I just couldn’t bear to find you wearing the same face. It would have hurt too much. And then I told myself I could ease into things, wander around a bit and then go back to right after you left me. I had a time machine, after all. I knew you had to take Donna home--John explained to me what was going to happen to her--and I could meet you on the street outside her house right after that. Because you’d probably need me then, and we could heal each other. But I kept on wanderin’, and helpin’ people, and I even invited a few to travel with me from time to time.”

A stab of jealousy goes through him, and he must not keep it from his face because Rose giggles. “Short trips only, Doctor. No one could ever take your place. Besides, I’m sure you had others with you.”

His grin is sheepish. “A few.”

“And I still look the same. Just like I did all those years ago, when you first grabbed my hand…” Another tear slips down her cheek. “I _look_ the same, but I’m so different now, Doctor. And I wasn’t sure...I just wasn’t sure if you’d want me.”

“Oh, Rose,” he says, squeezing her hands. “Oh, my Rose. I’ve been wanting you since that very first day. And I wouldn’t want you to be the same. _I’m_ certainly not the same man I was back then. I’m still your Doctor--I’ll _always_ be your Doctor--but I’ve been through joys and pains, too. Our lives are what make us who we are. Our experiences. How we grow and change and adapt. We’ve spent some time apart, but I think--if it’s what you want--that we could learn to grow together again.”

She leans forward, ever slowly, as if she’s giving him every opportunity to back away. But he doesn’t, he couldn’t, he belongs to her and she is getting closer and closer…

And then her lips are on his, soft as rose petals, at first barely touching him but then trying to tell him everything she can’t say with words. And he may not understand every bit, but he’s going to spend the rest of his lives trying, if she’ll let him.

“RUN!”

He grabs Rose’s grasping hand and they run, and first they’re just running but soon they’re laughing. “I think we lost ‘em,” Rose says.

“You know that’s my line, don’t you?” says the Doctor once they’ve slowed to a walk. He squeezes her hand, pulling her close.

“Haven’t you figured out that you’re not in charge anymore?”

He huffs. “As if I was ever in charge.”

Rising on her toes, she kisses his cheek. “Now you’re getting’ it.”

He can’t help but smile. Having Rose with him again has been a whirlwind--a happy, endorphin- and kiss-filled whirlwind. Today they’re on past Earth, running away from the January 1, 1601 premier of _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ at the Globe Theatre in London. Everything had been fine until the he’d started complaining that Puck got his final monologue wrong. People wanted to know how he knew, then others got involved...Rose had been right, better to get out of there. And there had been the added bonus of running with Rose, yellow-gold hair streaming out behind her, laughter echoing off the buildings.

They’d run for blocks and she’s barely even winded. It worries him sometimes, how much she’s been changed, how much she continues to change, but it means she gets to stay with him so he tries not to think about it too much. She says they’ve got ages to figure things out, and he always agrees with her. Out loud, at least.

But still he worries.

And every time she’s in any kind of danger his hearts still clench. He knows she’s not exactly in the “fragile human” category anymore, but she doesn’t have Time Lord physiology either. Although the latest scan she’d consented to (after much cajoling on his part) showed some anomalies in her blood that had raised his eyebrows a bit. Her blood type no longer conforms to the general human types--it showed that she’s shifting over time, becoming something entirely new. Entirely herself.

Which is, of course, as it should be.

“Do you have to make a disturbance wherever you go?” Rose asks, breaking into his thoughts.

“Well, if he’d only remembered his lines I wouldn’t have disturbed anything.” But he’s laughing, not being all that contrary.

“What are the chances you remembered it wrong?”

He stands up tall, straightening his jacket. “Less than zero. I know my Shakespeare.”

“Maybe you just heard the original ending for the very first time. Maybe Shakespeare changed it later. Maybe even because he heard some bloke in the audience ranting about how Puck got the ending wrong.”

“I...never thought of that.”

Rose laughs, and his heart sings. All those years without her...sometimes he thinks it was her laugh he missed the most. Her laugh and her smile. And her hand in his.

He’s turning into a sentimental idiot. (She tells him he’s been that way all along. He rolls his eyes, but she’s probably right. She usually is.)

“Back to the TARDIS, love?” he asks, squeezing her hand.

“Not yet,” she says, smiling up at him through her lashes. “It’s New Year’s Day, at least it is right now. Let’s enjoy London for a bit longer. Walk with me, Doctor?”

And how can he say no?

Later he’ll play for her, and kiss her, and lift her into their bed. But for this moment, right now, they walk through the past and into their shared future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't resist a happy ending. 💙


End file.
